Chapter 28: Her Terms

He carried me into my bedroom and didn't turn on the light.

The window threw a pale square of streetlamp across the bed.

He set me on my feet in front of it and stood there breathing.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

He pulled it over his head and dropped it.

His chest was broad and scarred in three places from old games, and his stomach jumped when I laid my palm flat on it.

I ran my hand down to his belt.

He stopped breathing.

"Lena, I swear..."

"I said no talking."

I opened his belt and his jeans, and I pushed them down his hips with his boxers.

His cock sprang free, thick and hard and already wet at the tip.

I wrapped my hand around it.

He groaned and his head fell back.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck, that's..."

"Quiet."

I stroked him slowly, from the root to the head, and I watched his stomach clench with every pull.

I thumbed the wet from the tip and spread it down his shaft, and his hips jerked into my fist.

"Get on the bed."

He sat on the edge of it, and I stood between his knees.

I took off my own dress, then my bra.

His eyes dragged over my body, the stretch marks, the fuller breasts, the soft belly that had carried both his children.

"God," he said, and his voice cracked. "Look at you."

"Touch me."

His hands came up and cupped my breasts, reverent and shaking.

He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked, and I gasped and held his head.

My nipples were sore and sensitive, and his tongue went over one, then the other, and heat ran straight down my stomach.

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